A Birthday, A Wedding, The End
by hailingstars
Summary: Pepper tells Tony she's pregnant a week before their wedding. Peter wants to fight aliens the day before he turns sixteen. And Tony tries not to have a heart attack. 4th and Final Part of Mask Series
1. stuck in the middle of a moment

It happens at the worst possible moment.

Really, it should be one of Tony's best moments. A memory he will look back at and refer to as some of the happiness seconds of his entire life, along with the day he found Peter and made him part of his family.

Instead it's this.

He stares at Pepper with his hand latched on her elbow. He's speechless and emotional. His mouth doesn't know if it wants to be open, if he wants to speak or stay quiet in reverence of this miraculous revelation. His brain does, finally, form words. He's about to tell her how happy he is that they're getting married in just a week, how happier he is now that in nine months he'll get to meet their child and see Peter become a big brother, but he never gets the chance to speak.

An alarm sounds. FRIDAY booms over the intercom.

There's an alien spacecraft hovering over New York City.

Tony removes his hand from Pepper's elbow. He looks away before he sees her head tilt to the floor with disappointment. It has to be Tony. They both know it. Even in this private, specular moment, the city needs Iron Man.

The other Avengers, well, they were probably on their way, but Tony is experienced enough to know when it comes to aliens, every second counts.

He goes for the shorted version of what he wants to say.

"I'm happy, Pep," he tells her, as he backs away from her and closer to balcony. "This is our best day."

He taps his chest as he steps out onto the balcony, letting the armor grow over his body, before jetting off into the sky. He doesn't look back. Looking back will tempt him to stay with Pepper and celebrate, will remind him how much he disappoints her when he has to fly away and fight monsters in the sky instead of enjoying the moment with her.

Tony finds the trouble in minutes. If it can be called trouble. The spacecraft that had triggered the alarms is small. Almost puny, and it's parked on top of a building. That's not what irks at Tony's nerves. It's his Spider-Child, on top of that same building, engaging in a fight with who Tony can only assume is the owner of the spacecraft.

He lands just as Peter and the human-alien are in a stare down. Tony's heart jumps around in his chest as he watches the alien raise his laser gun at Peter. He lifts his arm, gets his own blaster ready, completely ready to smoke this guy threatening his kid, but Peter is faster. It takes just one thin and nearly invisible web to disarm the alien, sending his gun tumbling to the other side of the building.

Peter charges him, lands a kick into his chest and sends him flying backwards, into the ship that brought him here, while Tony stands off on the sidelines. His heartrate returns to normal, but it's replaced by an increasing familiar sensation, the same one he gets everything he has to listen to Peter and Ned talk in what feels like a different language to him. Irrelevant. He feels irrelevant, and like a dad who worries too much.

It doesn't seem to matter that Peter is skilled in combat, that his instincts are sharp, and it's been months since he's had any major Spider-Man related injuries. Tony still worries. Sometimes his talent makes it worse. The idea of having a war-ready teenager is responsible for more than a couple of his sleepless nights.

"Oh, hey Spider-Man," says Tony. Peter turns and spots him. "Strange neighborhood for you. What are you doing here?"

"Saving the city from aliens?"

Tony lets the armor guarding his face fall away, so Peter can both see and hear the fury, so he can understand how much trouble he's in. That alien, or human, or whatever the hell he is, falls off Tony's radar completely. He's also irrelevant. At least in that moment.

"This doesn't look like grounded," says Tony. He looks over the edge of the rooftop. "This looks like the opposite of grounded."

Peter's spidey eyes go comically wide. "Dad – not in front of the bad guy."

"Uh, it's Star-Lord, actually," says the bad guy. He struggles to get to his feet, and Tony doesn't envy him. Without his armor, he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end on one of Peter's physical assaults. "And I'm not the bad guy. I'm one of the galaxy's greatest defenders."

"Really?" asks Peter. He throws his hands up. "I guess we're screwed, then."

"Is this how earth greets it's visitors? By setting the attack spider on them?" Star-Lord brushes dust off his clothes and looks at Tony. "Are you in charge here? Please call off the freak. I come in peace."

"We haven't had the best luck with foreigners," says Tony. "So, you'll have to forgive our shoot first, ask questions later policy. Just works better that way."

He readies his own blasters. Never one to put his guard down, but as it turns out, he doesn't have to. It takes just seconds for the Quinjet to appear, apparently out of nowhere, and land on the building. The three of them watch as Captain America, Black Widow and the Winter Soldier unpack from the vessel.

"Peter," says Cap. "How's school?"

"It's good. I aced my calc test last week."

The self-proclaimed Star-Lord looks back and forth between them all. "Are you guys having a family reunion right now?"

Tony doesn't want to break it to him, but yes, they are having a reunion, of sorts. There isn't a member of the Avengers who had been there the night they found Peter that doesn't still feel responsible for him in some way, and the ones who don't have the pleasure or annoyance of living with him are constantly under the impression they don't get to see him enough.

He's a busy kid. At least when he isn't grounded, like he's supposed to be now.

"You guys good to take care of star freak?" asks Tony. "Jailbreak and I need to have a conversation."

He avoids looking at Natasha and her raised eyebrow. He and Peter are pass the time in their lives when they needed her to mediate in their relationship. Tony can deal with his son, by himself, without input from her.

"Sure," says Cap. "We got this handled."

Peter slumps his shoulders and sighs. "I guess I'll meet you at home."

He points his wrist to the sky, slings a web at a taller building and swings away, through the buildings and towards the penthouse.

"Try not to kill him, okay? We're all looking forward to his party."

"Noted."

Forget his and Pepper's wedding. Everyone is most excited about celebrating Peter's sixteenth birthday. It isn't shocking. Peter is everyone's favorite Stark. His charm even works on Tony, and as he jets off into the sky, Tony feels like an asshole parent for grounding his child on his birthday. The feeling doesn't last long. He rather keep him safe than happy, and running after alien spacecrafts falling from the sky definitely isn't safe.

* * *

Peter lands on the balcony, disconnects his webbing and rips the mask from his face. He needs to feel the wind blow through his hair one last time before Tony gets home and overreacts and puts the penthouse on some sort of lockdown. He pauses, just for a flickering moment, then crosses over the threshold as the door slides open automatically.

Finn comes running to greet him, barking and jumping, as if Peter has been gone for days instead of just ten minutes. Peter pats his head, then walks over to the couch and sits down. He lets Finn jump up on the couch with him.

Pepper tried her best to keep him off the furniture during the early days, but now, they all just accept it. Finn will be wherever Peter will be. He pets him, and plays with his ears, and thanks whatever power in the universe that's responsible for letting him have this dog. Finn is tied with both Ned and Harry for the spot of his best friend, and without him, without having to take him on bathroom walks, Peter wouldn't ever get to see daylight. At least not during the past week.

Peter hadn't been so aware that a week could last so long until being grounded, or maybe he did once, but has since forgotten.

He watches Tony land on the balcony and march inside the penthouse. He doesn't bother unsuiting from his Iron Man gear, and as he approaches, Peter really wishes him would. He doesn't want to have this argue with Iron Man. Tony Stark is enough by himself.

Finn sits straight up and stares as Tony moves to stand in front of them. The dog, at least, always has his back in these situations.

Tony stands in front of him, with that firm look in his eyes, that look that demands answers, and Peter has to turn his head. It's a necessary sacrifice, and it's better than doing what Tony expects him to do, spill his guts. He's waiting for an explanation. With each passing second, Peter's determination to stay silent melts away with every tick of the clock.

He swears he can hear the seconds tick by. It gets louder and louder every day, but in this moment, Peter knows how he can make it stop.

"Listen," he starts out. He can't take it anymore. "I just thought I'd help you out."

It's the wrong thing to say, and it sends Tony's eyebrows into a harder crease.

"Look I was in the hall and overheard Pepper tell you that she's pregnant and that's awesome by the way, I've always wanted to be a big brother, but then that alarm went off and I just thought you'd want to stay with her and celebrate… and really, isn't an alien invasion one of those few times a grounding becomes invalid?"

Tony exhales, and the room gets unbearably silent again. Peter gets it. His nervous rambles are a lot for him to process, but it never stops him from rambling.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving."

"Well no, I knew you wouldn't let me –"

"How was I supposed to know you were, what did you say, oh yeah, _helping me out_ , if you weren't going to communicate it to me?"

Peter blinks. He hadn't thought of it.

"And forget about being grounded, Spider-Man doesn't deal with aliens. Spider-Man takes care of petty criminals and helps little old ladies across the street."

"But I'm ready for more than that –"

"-No, no you're not."

"Nat thinks so. She told me during our last training session," says Peter. Normally he wouldn't sell out Nat, but he has to make Tony understand what he can do, what he's capable of doing, if only he would be given a chance.

This comment isn't appreciated, and it causes Tony to let out another frustrated, yet resigned, breath of air.

"We can't have this discussion right now," he says. "So, this is what's going to happen. I need to go to the compound –"

"-why?" asks Peter. "Shouldn't you be with Pepper? They don't even need you just for that one guy." He catches Tony's glare, and backtracks. "Sorry."

"And since I can't trust you here by yourself, you're coming with me."

It's bullshit.

All of it, but especially the part about being untrustworthy.

Peter clicks his jaw shut tight, not wanting to incriminate himself even further. He lets the screaming bang against the inside of his skull. That this isn't fair. That his dad didn't even try to listen to him. Most of the time when they argue, Peter knows deep down he's wrong. He doesn't feel that way now. Just angry, and slightly confused. Tony is usually more understanding.

He forces himself up from the couch, and says, "I'll go change."

"Just put your mask on," says Tony. "We'll get that faster if you ride on my back."

"No way."

"I know you're not afraid of heights, Spidey."

Of heights, no, but of Spider-Man's reputation being ruined by being seen carried around by Iron Man, yes.

"What about Finn?" asks Peter. "We can't leave him if we're staying there long. He needs someone to walk him."

"Pepper –"

"-is too busy to take care of the dog," says Pepper. She strides into the living room dressed in heels and her typical office clothes with her work bag in her hand. "There are a few things I need to take care of before our wedding and honeymoon, unless of course there's another disturbance in the universe that calls my husband away."

Peter tries not to look thoroughly smug. He stands a bit taller, though, at the Pepper's slightly passive aggressive statement. He's right in assuming Tony should have stayed behind with her when the alarms went off. He wants to say so. He wants to point it out and brag, but he doesn't think Tony is in the right mood for it.

"Fine," says Tony. "We'll take the car. Get changed."

* * *

Peter stares out the window and watches scenery pass him by. There's no talking in the car as Tony drives, but even when they're arguing, they're both experts at managing a comfortable quiet. He sort of wishes they had something to talk about this time, though. He's struggling to stay awake. Being on bad terms with Tony both stresses him out and exhausts him. Besides that, driving around in cars still puts him straight to sleep.

It'll be different when he's finally allowed behind the wheel, and he hopes Tony isn't so mad that he puts off taking him to get his learner's permit.

They pull up into the back entrance in the compound, and as soon as the car stops, Peter gets out. He opens the backdoor, hooks Finn's leash on his collar and speeds off towards the building. Tony isn't far behind him after handing the key fab off to valet. Neither of them stop walking until they're inside the building, where they must go their separate ways.

Tony will go to question their visitor, and Peter… well he's waiting for his orders. He's expecting to be told to go up to the suite and stay there, but this kind of pettiness isn't found anywhere in Tony's expressions anymore. All those hard lines have disappeared, and it drains Peter's anger.

"I'm sorry," says Peter. He isn't apologizing for leaving the penthouse while grounded or joining the fight, but he's sorry they're frustrated with each other. Tony doesn't need to know that, though.

Tony steps forward, and wraps him in a half-hug, with one arm, then steps back. "I'll be done with this by tomorrow, and then we can celebrate your birthday."

"You didn't cancel it?"

"If that was possible," says Tony. "I'd be years younger."

He turns and stomps off in the opposite direction.

"Wait," calls Peter. "Celebrating means taking me driving, right?"

"We'll see," says Tony. He doesn't stop walking or even turn his head back to look at him. Just gets smaller and smaller until Peter can't see him anymore.

"Well looks like it's just us now, buddy," says Peter. He pats Finn on the head, and looks up and around, at all the high ceilings and high-tech designs of the compound.

It's a boring place. He suspects it might be more exciting if he were allowed to access the interesting areas when they were interesting, like wherever they're holding and questioning their new friend from space. That isn't going to happen, though. Tony won't ever allow it. He clenches his fists, feeling that anger spark back up again, but ultimately, it has no place to go.

Peter doesn't have any place to go, except the suite, where at least he has his room and a few things to do to kill time. With a sigh, he heads towards the elevator, but gets distracted by the hallway leading to the Medical wing.

The past is calling him in these few last moments he has as a fifteen-year-old.

"A detour won't hurt," says Peter. Finn barks his agreement, and they head off to search for Peter's old room.

The room he woke up in two years ago, free and scared and thrown into a world bigger than himself. It seems smaller now. Peter's grown out of it, but Tony refuses to let him have room to grow further.

After a few minutes of searching, he finds the room, and finds that bed inside of it is occupied. He has to squint to see the form laying on the bed fully. The sun is streaming in from the window, and it's incredibly blinding.

"Michael?" Peter guesses.

His voice is confirmation enough. "Peter? What are you doing here?"

Peter steps forward, past the sun's glares and his eyes settle on Michael. He doesn't really feel like explaining to Michael the circumstances of his arrival at the compound, so instead, he returns the question.

"Umm…what are you doing here?"

"I'm injured, obviously," he tells him. Then smirks. "You wouldn't know, but sometimes the missions get a little dangerous. It's probably good you stick to car-jackers."

Peter clenches his fists again and tries to think of something in his life comparable to all the risks Avengers take when they save the world. His brain is a whirlwind of calculus, surviving the social hierarchy of high school, dealing with the media, and his adventures as Spider-Man. None of it seems important. None of it seems cool enough to say out loud, as a defense or bargaining chip in being as important as Michael thinks of himself as.

"Cool dog," says Michael. He tries to call Finn over to his bed, but Peter keeps a firm grip on that leash. His eyes flicker to his dog, his best friend, and Michael's bare arms. The decision to take the metal sleeves that once keep the fire at bay came months ago. Steve and Bucky trust him. Peter doesn't. Not with Finn.

He doesn't know if he would survive if something happened to his dog.

"What? You think I'll cook your dog?" asks Michael. "I wouldn't hurt an animal. Even I'm not that demented."

Peter narrows his eyes.

"Anymore," he amends, and Peter relents at the admission.

He and Finn walk over to the bed and sit down. Finn doesn't waste anytime hopping up and attempting to lick Michael's face. Peter is tense as he watches Michael play with Finn. His mouth was doing something. Almost smiling. It's the closest sincere, normal smile he's ever since from him.

Peter looks around the room. Everything is the same as that day two years ago, when his real life began, except everything is different now, like Michael almost smiling and him being actually excited for his birthday.

"Can you believe we've been out of there for two years?" asks Peter.

"I still can't believe I'm letting you sit this close to me without turning you into charcoal," says Michael.

Peter makes a face, and gently tugs on Finn's leash as he leaps from the bed. It's time to go. He knows he's kidding, that he's just remarking on the progress they've both made but putting distance between the boy with fire hands and his beloved dog seems like a good idea. He tells Michael goodbye, and just like Tony, doesn't look back.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone still reading this series! This story means the world to me, and I'm happy it's found readers.

Also, I have a Tumblr if you want to come say hi. It's .com

It's plain right now, but I'm still working on it.


	2. only steps away

Peter tosses, and turns, and tries to convince himself he can go to sleep like a regular person, that he'll drift off any second now, but his efforts are futile. It always ends the same way. With him lying flat on his back and blinking up at the ceiling, completely and utterly awake. It's pretty impossible to sleep when his thoughts are racing, moving fast and forward and nearly out of time altogether. They're as reckless as Tony behind the wheel of one of his sports cars.

He wishes they were trending down the highway in one of Tony's cars. Being in his bedroom at the suite stirs a strange ache for the days his nights were filled with so much misery and agony Tony had to drive him around to get him to sleep. There must be something wrong with him. He's sure it isn't healthy to miss a time in his life that had been filled with so much pain, but there's something about the past that's appealing.

That's the reckless thought that puts Peter's feet on the ground and moves them out of his bedroom and into the living. Before he leaves the suite, he grabs the pack of playing cards off the dining room table. They're old. They're the same ones Nat and Clint used to teach him to play poker, and they give Peter a clue as to what he's really missing about those days.

He starts towards the elevator, and Finn meet him there with his tail wagging expectantly. There's a stab of guilt. Peter hates disappointing his best friends.

"Not this time, bud," says Peter, as he pats him on the head. Finn lets out an annoyed whine and retreats back to where he'd been sleeping on the couch.

For a moment, Peter considers changing his mind, but then he looks at his watch. Time is winding down, and he's almost sixteen. This tour of the past is for him, and him alone.

* * *

Peter's steps are light. They're deliberately light, but all that thoughtfulness is for nothing. It all comes undone with a single look and raised eyebrow as he enters one of the many conference rooms in the Avenger's compound. He straightens out from his hunched posture with a sigh as Nat continues to watch him, amused.

She was ready, and she was waiting for him.

Nine minutes ago exactly he turned sixteen and his new life turned two. It's hard for him to believe. That it's been two years. Nothing has changed. Except everything.

Things are different and things are the same.

"This seems oddly familiar," says Nat.

Peter plops down in the chair across from her, pushing on the ground with his feet to roll the chair further from the table. "How? I've never even been in this room before."

"You. Up and roaming around the compound past your bedtime. Being places you're not supposed to be."

"I'm too old for a bedtime, Nat."

"Does Tony know that?"

Peter sets his jaw and looks out the window behind Nat. It's dark. The stars are out, but the moon is too high to be seen. At least not from his chair. He gets up, walks around the table and positions himself in front of the window. No good. The angle is all wrong. He turns and sees Nat has turned in her chair, and is still staring at him, waiting for a response.

"We're sort of… not seeing eye to eye right now," says Peter.

"Shocking."

"He's sort of freaking out."

There's a pause, and there's nothing to be heard except the rumblings of the compound's air conditioning coming to life. Nat keeps her silence, but by doing so, makes it incredibly clear what side of Peter and Tony's newest argument she lands on.

"He doesn't think I'm ready to go on missions."

"And apparently I do," says Nat. "You misquoted me. I said you will be ready _soon._ I don't need Tony barking at me that he's your parent."

"Soon is relative," says Peter, with a shrug. "Michael gets to go."

"Michael's different."

Peter looks out of the window again. She's right, of course, but he can't help the stab of jealousy that slices him every time he's sidelined by Tony only to see Michael return home from Avenger's victories injured, but still useful. It's petty. Compared to Peter, Michael's life is not desirable. His arms might be free from those sleeves, but technically, he's still just a prisoner, locked in his room every night and has a tracker around his ankle.

Tony says it's because he's a flight risk. They disagree about that, too. He would have to be an idiot to run away from a place like this.

"Besides, if Peter is grounded doesn't that mean Spidey is, too?"

Peter takes it back. Him and Michael are both prisoners in their own ways.

"I didn't know you knew about that."

It's a vague, test-the-waters kind of statement, meant to figure out if Nat knows the reason he was grounded in the first place. Peter doesn't want another lecture about that particular evening, he's heard a few already, so he's relived when she simply shrugs and lets it go.

"What are you doing down here, anyway?"

Peter shrugs and pulls the old box of cards out of his pocket. "I thought we could play. Like old times."

"I could always stand to make a few bucks off the billionaire's kid."

"I think you'll be surprised about how good I am now," says Peter.

She isn't, and Peter loses in a glorious fashion.

When he's done blowing through all his birthday cash before he even gets it, his next stop is Steve. Normally he can be found in the gym after hours, especially after a tough mission, but FRIDAY directs him in the opposite direction, towards another section of the compound Peter's never been inside before.

It's overwhelming, sometimes, the massiveness of the compound, and it doesn't seem to matter how much of it he's explored as if it were his own personal playground, there's always more to see.

The room Steve is hiding out in is plain and boring, almost as dull as the conference room where he played cards with Nat, and he's hunched over a table, looking through a binder filled with papers. Occasionally, he takes a drink the small glass of golden liquor sitting next to him. He turns, spots Peter, and heaves a tired, weary sigh. Peter takes the seat next to him.

"Can you even drink? With your metabolism?" asks Peter. "I can't. Alcohol doesn't work on me."

Once upon a time that bothered him, but it doesn't anymore. He's turned it into a literal party trick. To this day Flash can't understand how Peter never loses a game of beer pong, or tosses one back after another and stays standing.

"This is special," says Steve. "It would work on you."

Peter's eyes grew with interest.

"Don't even ask."

And he deflates as that interest crashes and burns.

"How's the prisoner?" asks Peter, leaning back in the chair.

"He's not a prisoner. We let him go. He's harmless."

"I do all that work capturing a guy –"

"-you're getting cocky. You went rushing in, with no backup and with no idea what you were facing-"

"-you just said he was harmless."

"You didn't know that."

Peter scoffs and leans back further into the chair. He's not looking for anymore lectures. He's heard enough of Tony's to last him a lifetime, but he supposes this really shouldn't be a surprise. A lecture isn't what he's looking for, though, not from Steve. He misses beating the hell out of a punching bag at all hours of the night while Steve stood behind it giving him patient instructions on form.

"Steve…" says Peter, after a few a few minutes of silence. "Maybe you could teach me to drive your motorcycle."

Steve busts out into a quiet, but genuine laugh.

"What?"

"If I had a death wish," says Steve. "And anyway, I read the headlines. Haven't you had enough driving for a while?"

Of course they know. All the Avengers probably know, if not from the news, then from Tony.

"You know, my dad completely overreacted about that," says Peter. He's never been grounded before, and he didn't think any of his Spider-Man hijacks qualified as punishable offenses, at least domestically.

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Is it possible to overreact about grand theft auto?"

"It wasn't stealing. It was borrowing, and it was out of necessity."

Steve rolls his eyes, looks at Peter, then laughs again. "I'm glad Tony has you to keep him on his toes. Like karma."

Peter frowns. He's heard Rhodey talk about Tony's MIT days, and there's no way Peter is as bad as that, even with superpowers. He's right about the car, too. He had needed it out on one of his Spidey patrols when the criminal literally went too far south and he ran out of buildings to swing on. He couldn't help it if the next morning there were a bunch of headlines that read Spider-Man: Hero or car jacker?

Before he can be lectured even further, Peter leaves Steve to his binder full of papers and resolves to ask about the motorcycle on a day that's further removed from the Spidey steals a car incident. He figures his chances are better after everyone forgets about this mess and moves on, or when Tony is too preoccupied and worried about a newborn to be concerned with what Peter's doing every second of the day.

He already owes his new little brother or sister a great debt. His life is going to improve dramatically once Tony's worry will have to be split two ways.

Peter's next stop on his tour of the stars are the actual stars. He pauses when he gets to the giant double doors of the compound, worrying for a second or two that leaving will trigger some sort of petty alarm Tony may have set up, but he opens them and walks through anyway, smiling when no noise assaults his ears.

The air is cool on his arm, and there's a slight breeze. It's a perfect night for a walk, and that's how Peter knows he'll find Bucky out here. He's predictable. His path is predictable, so Peter climbs a tree and he waits. Like clockwork, he sees a tall figure with dark hair approaching, and Peter falls backwards, does a flip in mid-air and lands directly in front of Bucky. He manages to straighten out in time to see the man flinch.

"Shit, man. I didn't mean to scare you," says Peter, with a half-smile and a slouch. "Why are you so jumpy?"

Somehow, even Bucky's glaring is expressionless. "Language."

"Where's Steve?" Peter stands on his tippy-toes and makes a big deal about looking around. He's so caught up in his dramatics, he doesn't see the shove from Bucky coming and is knocked backwards to the ground. "Hey. That was uncalled for."

"You shouldn't let your guard down like that," says Bucky, with a careless shrug. He continues onward, leaving Peter to scramble around in the dirt before launching himself up to follow. "Doesn't grounded imply you stay indoors?"

"No," says Peter. "It implies I stay on the _grounds_ and we're still on Avengers property so…"

Bucky stops, stares at him, then turns around. "Come on."

"What? Come on, where?"

"I'll walk you back to your suite."

"But –"

"It's almost two in morning," says Bucky. "Tony can't know that you're out here."

They have a stare off that ends with Peter expressing his dissatisfaction with a huff and slouched shoulders. Peter isn't ready for his night to be over. He isn't ready to go bed, having not gotten what he wanted from any of his Avenger friends, but Bucky leaves no room for arguing. He falls in line behind him, and they start the walk back to the compound.

In some sort of twisted revenge plot for Peter having jump scared him, Bucky walks him not only to the building, but also through the halls and to the elevator. He pushes the call button and it's this action that sends Peter's frustration to a boiling point.

"I'm so tired of you all treating me like I'm a little kid," says Peter. "I'm sixteen."

"Maybe you shouldn't take it for granted," says Bucky, while Peter steps inside the elevator. "Not everyone has the luxury of being treated their age. You knew what that was like once."

The statement settles in and slices into him as the elevator doors slide close. Sometimes he's so caught up in being Peter Stark, son billionaire Iron Man, he forgets he was once just Peter, son of a psychopath and the favorite test subject of cruel scientists, and by the time the doors open again, the truth has done its job and the act is gone.

His eyes immediately find Tony when he steps in the suite. He's sitting on the couch, petting Finn, who's resting his head in Tony's lap.

"What are you doing?" asks Peter, stepping into the living room. It's sort of strange for Tony to be sitting around in the dark.

"Worrying about my son," says Tony, and Peter thinks about his new brother or sister again. Now that he's being more honest with himself, he can admit, just inside his head, there's a part of him that will miss being the center of Tony's world.

Peter sighs and sits down next to him. "I'm sorry."

"You've said that already."

"I mean it this time," says Peter. It hurts to admit it out loud, but he knew leaving the penthouse when the alarm went off was a bad idea, even if nothing bad came of it, and had been meant to get a reaction out of Tony. "I like being friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I'll keep my feet on the ground, so to speak, for a little bit longer."

"Oh," says Tony. "And here I was about to agree to let you come on the next mission."

"Wait, what? Really?"

"I was thinking… it might be nice to take a step back," says Tony. "To move towards… retirement, and it'd be nice to have some backup every now and then."

"Getting old, huh?" asks Peter.

He's met with a dead stare. "Watch it, or I'll change my mind."

Peter throws his hands up in mock surrender while Tony shakes Finn off of him and starts to stand.

"And on that note, I'm going to bed."

"Wait," says Peter, and Tony stops, hovering half off the couch and half on. "… I can't sleep."

Sometimes, but not very often anymore, Peter still needs help getting to sleep. Nights like this when the stars are out and the compound is alive and whispering qualify. Even if the nightmares have become rare, his mind still races, overactive and definitely alive, in the best way.

Tony collapses back down into the cushions. "Movie?"

Peter nods his head, and FRIDAY plays the next move in their queue automatically. It doesn't matter which one. He falls asleep long before the credits roll, and only wakes up long enough to feel a kiss on his forehead, to hear Tony tell him birthday, to hear footsteps receding from the bedroom he'd been carried to. A weight jumping on his bed tells him Finn has joined, then he drifts back off to that dark, quiet place.

* * *

A/N: I know it's been forever since I've updated this! There's only one chapter left in this series, and it's mostly fluff. Peter's party, the wedding and Harry. Thanks so much for reading!


	3. and the world's okay

**So! I know, it's been awhile. For the last month or so I was thinking I was going to leave this fic incomplete, I think maybe the idea of finishing this series was too much for me. This was my first ever irondad story, it introduced me to this fandom, which I'm so grateful to be apart of it, and helped me so much with my anxiety. I know it sounds dumb, but I was so strangely attached to this fic.**

 **Anyway, last night I felt like I needed to finish it, so while this isn't a very long ending and not my best writing, I'm just going to feel good about it. Better to leave it like this than incomplete!**

 **Thanks to anyone still reading this! Thanks to everyone who made me for welcome posting in this fandom for the first time! and I'm sorry I made you wait for long for a short ending! I hope you enjoy anyway!**

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"Quit stepping on me," says Harry. He lets go of Peter and backs several spaces away from him. "How is Spider-Man this bad at dancing?"

"Not really the same thing, dude," says Peter.

"I've seen your footwork sparring with Cap in the gym," says Harry. "It's practically the same thing."

"Whatever," says Peter. He closes the distance between them and tries to put his hand back on Harry's shoulder, but he backs away from Peter's reach. "Come on, I have to learn before the wedding."

Harry gives him dead eyes, and Peter gets it. He doesn't want to be in an abandoned ballroom at the Avenger's compound, MIA from his own birthday party, but sacrifices must be made.

"Fine," says Harry. "But I'm leading. You can learn from that."

Peter rolls his eyes, but he's not in any position to argue. Beggars can't be choosers. When they resume back into position, Harry's hand hesitantly finds his shoulder, but it isn't awkward until their arms are straight, their hands laced together.

Of course, it's this moment the door to the conference room comes bursting open, and Tony appears on the other side. Harry and Peter break apart from each other, but it's too late. Tony's raised eyebrow tells them both they've been caught.

"What'cha guys doing?" asks Tony.

"Peter is attempting to dance," Harry tells him. "He's hopeless."

Tony walks further into the room, a smirk planted across his face, and Peter feels like melting into the carpet. It's one thing to ask his best friend for help, who he didn't get to see as often as he wanted to, and could only mock him about this over texting, but it was entirely different for Tony to have this knowledge.

He'd be hearing about this until graduation. Peter's own future kids would be hearing about it at their graduations.

"I got it from here, Harry," says Tony, with a laugh. "You can go join the party."

Harry, the traitor, wastes no time abandoning him.

Tony levels a look at Peter. "You've asked me."

Peter shrugs. "I wanted it to be a surprise. You know, cause Pepper said that thing about wanting a mother-son dance at the reception and I made fun of it – "

"-because you don't know how to dance."

"Hopeless," says Peter, repeating Harry's words.

Tony looks at him funny, and Peter braces himself for more laughter, but instead he gets a hair ruffle. He gets pulled into a hug that he doesn't even try to escape from.

"You're a good son," says Tony. "I don't know how we got so lucky."

Peter presses his forehead into Tony's shoulder, and lets his mind play through all the tragedies that lead them here. To this moment, on Peter's sixteen birthday, preparing for both a wedding and a baby, preparing to really be a family. It isn't the way he thought his life would work out, not even close, but it's okay. It's great.

His family isn't the one he started with. It's made up of mismatched parts and therapy sessions and an extremely traumatic beginning, but he wouldn't trade it. He's home, and soon, another piece of their home would be brought into the world.

Tony teaches him how to dance. He's better at it than Harry was, and somehow less awkward and they're ready to rejoin his birthday party in less than an hour. All his favorite people are there. His extended family. Peter has more honorary aunts and uncles than he knows what to do with, and they're the same people that turn up to see Tony and Pepper exchange vows.

They're the same people who chuckle at him while him and Pepper have their mother-son dance at the reception. Pepper's so happy she cries, so Peter puts up with their mocking. As it turns out, even with the best teacher, Peter isn't hardwired to understand how to make his feet move with the music.

Once the wedding's over, once most everyone else is gone, and Peter sits with his tie loosened, his suit jacket off, at a table with his newly married parents. They're being gross, in Peter's opinion, and he feels like since they're about to go on their honeymoon, where they're free to be gross as much as they, they should be paying more attention to him.

He wants to complain, but never gets the chance. They break their faces away from each other and Tony begins to pour the champagne. He lets have a small glass, because Pepper has to stick with juice. They cling their glasses together. They toast Peter's incoming little sister, to their growing family.

And months later, when there's an Avenger's emergency at the same second Pepper goes into labor, Tony holds her hand and gives a nod to Peter, who's already taking off to suit up. He'll miss the birth of his little sister, so Tony doesn't have to. He's okay with it. He'll catch up with them after he's done taking care of the bad guy. For once, there's no scoreboard taunting him or timer ticking away, Peter's got all the time in the world.


End file.
